


Fine Specimens

by mandykaysfic



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Aliens Made Them Do It, Multi, Sexual Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-29
Updated: 2014-01-29
Packaged: 2018-01-10 11:19:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1159074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mandykaysfic/pseuds/mandykaysfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chakotay, Paris and Ayala are kidnapped and used as sex slaves. The preparation does not go so easily for one of them, the one with the hairiest chest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fine Specimens

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Darksusie’s ‘Love is for Losers’, in which Chakotay and Paris are kidnapped and supposed to be used as sex slaves. Now it seems all the best sex slaves need to be washed, perfumed and oiled prior to use, and the thought occurred to me about the difficulty in oiling a hairy torso. Maybe the hair should be removed first?

Foul taste in a very dry mouth. Headache. Assorted muscular aches and pains. Lying on a hard floor. Restrained limbs. Memories that were becoming clearer. Tom groaned and then softly cursed. It was the old ‘drugs in the ceremonial drink’ and they’d fallen for it again.

“Paris?”

“Chakotay.” Tom’s body reflexively relaxed. He wasn’t alone. “Ayala?” 

“Still out to it. Are you okay?”

“As well as can be expected after being drugged. I don’t seem to be injured.” Tom set to work, testing his bonds. “What do you think this lot wants?”

“Weapons, I suppose. That’s what they usually want.”

“Mmm. Well, they’re good with knots.”

At the sound of a door opening they fell silent and lay still. Four women entered and surveyed the bound men. They approached Chakotay’s corner of the room and stood over him. The shortest one ordered him to remain silent when he tried to speak. They conferred silently; their various nods, raised eyebrows and pointing fingers needed no verbal expansion. Ayala came to as they examined him. Tom wasn’t sure whether he should be worried or relieved when they spent only seconds looking down at him before going back to Chakotay.

“This one?” The shortest one spoke.

“Agreed.”

“This one what? Explain!” called Tom to their retreating backs. The snick of the closing door was loud. “Commander…” His voice trailed off, but there was no mistaking the concern in his tone. 

“Doesn’t sound good,” agreed Ayala, and began working at his own restraints.

The door opened again and the women rejoined them, but the men from Voyager quickly noticed they were not the original quartet. These ones were younger, and noisier. They giggled and whispered behind their hands. They busied themselves bringing up the lights and taking containers from the cupboards that lined one wall. All the while their eyes darted from one man to another and their shoulder shook as they laughed softly. They hurriedly quieted at the sudden appearance of an older woman arrayed in white. She clapped her hands. A metal box was opened and the contents displayed for her perusal. She removed something and held it up to the light.

Tom’s eyes widened in horror when he recognized an old-fashioned fluid-filled syringe. “What! You can’t…Allergies…,” he cried incoherently, but it was no use and he closed his eyes as the needle sank into Chakotay’s throat. He didn’t really hear the order given to one of the younger girls. At a loud clanking sound, he forced himself to turn his head and look at the contraption of chains and bars being lowered from the ceiling.

Two of the girls scrambled to straighten it out and then the older woman was leading a surprisingly quiescent Chakotay over until he stood beneath it. The commander allowed his wrists to be shackled and his arms hoisted above his head until he stood on the balls of his feet. One of *those* drugs, Tom thought as he recognized the effects. He supposed it was easier for the women do handle a compliant male rather than force an uncooperative one to do their bidding and risk being overpowered. He winced as the third girl produced a wicked looking knife. With its slim blade pressed to Chakotay’s throat, they would no doubt finally hear their captors’ demands.

“Hey!” The exclamation forced its way from Tom’s lips when the knife was used to slit Chakotay’s uniform. “There’s no need for that,” he protested on the commander’s behalf when the man just stood smiling inanely, but the girls had started their stupid giggling again and paid him no attention. Grey vest and underwear joined the black and red uniform tossed to one side. Commander Chakotay was indeed a fine figure of a man, thought Tom, swallowing the lump that had suddenly appeared in his throat and squirming awkwardly, trying to hide the other lump that had suddenly appeared at his crotch. His reaction was rather inappropriate, considering Chakotay’s imminent torture. That knife was capable of inflicting a great deal of damage, other implements yet to be shown notwithstanding.

A step stool placed one of the girls level with Chakotay’s head. One of the others handed her a bowl. “Not his face,” whimpered Tom, “not his face.” It was the tattoo, of course. That fucking tattoo. That fucking sexy tattoo. It just asked to be traced. Now it looked liked Tom’s fingers and tongue would never get that privilege (he’d been suffering from a case of lust for the first officer for quite some time). He squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to see the lines of red begin to trickle when the blade sliced into skin. He could hear Ayala muttering, straining to get free. He should open his eyes. Tom owed it to the commander to be strong, not to flinch away, but his lids stayed closed as he listened. Listened to the giggling. Listened to the tinkling splashes of water into a metal bowl. Stupid girls, why were they washing away the blood so soon? Didn’t they want to admire the patterns they made? Were they so inept at torture? And why were they commenting on Chakotay’s brown eyes? Exclaiming over the shape of his ears, his fine lips?  
Tom opened one eye, and then in shocked surprise, the other. They weren’t cutting into him, they were cleaning him.

Relieved, Tom sagged back against the wall. He forgot the creeping numbness in his left arm, there from lying on it for some time. He forgot the burning pins and needles in his hands and the chafing of his wrists bound behind him. Instead, he became all too aware of his burgeoning erection and thought that maybe he’d tell these women anything they wanted if only they would stop torturing *him*. For it was torture to watch their slim hands stroke his biceps, trace his ribs, spend an eternity on his nipples… and there were no words for how he felt when one had the temerity to rest her cheek upon the smooth skin of Chakotay’s thigh while she gently washed his knee.

Soft white towels were gently patted over the bronze skin. Tom frowned when the girls stood back to admire their handiwork as they partially blocked his view. It cleared soon enough when the older woman called the girls to her side. They clustered around her, eagerly watching what she was doing. Tom forgot he should have been trying his best to see the actions of their captors. Instead, he stared lustfully at Chakotay's body, all thoughts of escape pushed to the back of his mind.

He should have guessed what happened next. After the cleansing came the oiling. An aroma similar to sandalwood with hints of vanilla wafted through the air as the oil warmed on Chakotay's skin. All of the girls joined in the oiling. Eight white hands neglected four white cloths in favor of smoothing handfuls of oil over well-defined pectoral muscles, a taut abdomen, lush gluteals and those strong thighs Tom fantasized over. He licked his lips, and moaned softly, but not softly enough.

The older woman came over and looked down at Tom's bound form. An amused smile curved her lips. “Well, well, what do we have here?” She toed the large bulge at Tom's groin his Starfleet uniform. “This may change things.”

“Change what?” croaked Tom. He felt the heat of the blush staining his cheeks. “We only came to trade.”

“You will trade, but perhaps not those items you originally offered.” She prodded Tom’s erection once more and turned abruptly. Barely pausing as she hurried across the room, she ordered the young girls to continue with the preparation of Chakotay. At the door, she scanned the room once more and then slipped away on her mysterious errand. 

As soon as the door closed, the girl with the longest, darkest hair dropped to her knees and stroked a daring finger down the length of Chakotay’s still flaccid penis. It was the only potion of his body that had not been subjected to the oiling procedure. 

“Ooh, Linna, you shouldn’t!”

“She’s not here and she won’t find out unless you tell her.”

“But what if it…you know?” The question was accompanied by much giggling and a descriptive hand gesture.

“It won’t, silly. She has to give him the Potentizer first.”

Oh, yes. I forgot. Move over then. Let me have a go.” 

Fortunately for Tom’s teeth he was able to stop grinding them in relatively short order when the older woman returned. Linna and the others had to stop their inexpert handling of Chakotay’s genitals and quickly resume oiling at the sound of the door opening. She circled Chakotay and nodded approvingly at his glistening skin. “Well done.”

“Shall I prepare the Potentizer, Madam?” asked Linna.

“No. There has been a change of plans. You are to prepare this one as well.” She indicated Tom.

“Is it permitted to ask why?” There was no hint of the earlier giggling in Linna’s now deferential tones.

“I see no harm in telling you. I informed the Mistresses that this one is attracted to that one. They have decided some entertainment before the Competition will speed their readiness. These will provide that entertainment.”

At that, Ayala roared something unintelligible and resumed struggling with his bonds. Madam tut-tutted and picked up a syringe from the storage box. Efficiently, she plunged the needle into Ayala’s neck and within a short space of time he collapsed bonelessly onto the floor. She turned to collect a third syringe.

“Wait!” called Tom. “No drugs, please. I’ll co-operate.” His mind raced as he tried to formulate a plan. With all three of them under the influence of whatever nasty cocktail they were given, there was no hope for escape. If he remained in full command of his faculties, he had a chance to prevent them from becoming porn stars; he couldn’t think of any other form of entertainment that would require them to be naked and oiled.

“Why?”

“Why…what?” Tom tried to clarify in which direction the woman’s thoughts were heading.

“Why would you co-operate.” Clearly she thought Tom a simpleton. “You are stronger than we are. Without the drugs to control you…,” she shrugged. Even an imbecile would grasp that much of the obvious.

“Commander Chakotay is my commanding officer,” he began.

She topped him with a wave of her hand. “Yes, yes, we know all that. Chain of command, duty to protect. You must, by virtue of your position, try to escape and get word back to your starship that all is not well.” With a tilt of her head, she raised one eyebrow and challenged him to continue.

Tom drew on the only weapon available to him. He looked into his female captor’s face and blinked his impossibly blue eyes. He wondered if they had the equivalent of puppies on this planet and assumed the begging look of a small, cute animal. With a deep sigh and a throaty voice that throbbed with longing, Tom played his card. He flung a quick look at Chakotay and then confessed. “He’s not just my liege lord. The first time I saved his life, he said that by his people’s beliefs I owned it, until he could repay the debt, but I found I did not want to be free. You see, at that moment I inadvertently gave my heart to him, although he does not know.” Tom repeated his best puppy-dog eye thing and sighed again. “I will not leave the one I love. I can best protect him by staying at his side.”

“Oh, that’s so romantic!” Linna and the other girls stood with hands clasped over their bosoms and soppy smiles on their faces.

“You certainly swell for him.” Madam was a little older and a little wiser than the girls. “You will be restrained in position as he is for the Preparation.”

Tom nodded, judging it best to say nothing else.

“Very well. Make the preparations.” 

The girls sprang to comply with a will. Their earlier giggles were replaced by sympathetic cooing and repeated assertions of the romanticism of Tom’s unrequited love.

“Madam, look, the fur on his chest!” 

Tom bent his head a little and looked away from Chakotay, down his torso. His chest was indeed covered with a myriad of white froth, a reaction that had not occurred on Chakotay’s smooth skin. He bit his lower lip as the girls’ eager hands worked their way towards his groin. While he may have told the truth about his heart belonging to Chakotay, his body was not averse to the touch of female hands. The worshipful touches they used on Chakotay were replaced by more playful caresses. He smiled wryly when Linna winked at him as she fingered the nipple closest to her, secure in the knowledge her actions were hidden beneath the bubbles. Her breath tickled his ear as she whispered, “You are more fun to Prepare than anyone. See what your body does.” She pinched him gently. He bit his lip again; he knew exactly what his body was doing. Any minute now, one of the other girls would say something. He was not disappointed.

“Oh, my. He swells. He has not had the Potentizer and he swells.”

Four heads immediately clustered around his groin, as close as they could get. Tom flushed as Madam smiled mockingly, deliberately waiting some time before she clapped her hands and ordered the girls to rinse off the soap so they may begin the oiling. He would swell a lot more if he kept staring at Chakotay, who remained suspended close by. He would take one last look and close his eyes. He worked his way up from elegant feet and smooth shins, past knees and along muscular thighs. He regretfully kept the time spent admiring Chakotay’s cock short and concentrated on the shining abs and gleaming pecs. His gaze flickered briefly over Chakotay’s mouth and settled on his eyes. Warm brown eyes that were no longer dulled by drugs. Silently Tom cursed. When had that happened? Had he been clear-headed as Tom revealed his feeling? He watched dismayed as one eyelid slowly closed and opened. Chakotay had winked at him. But that tiny movement caused a wave of relief to sweep through him. With two of them clear-headed, they had a much better chance to get out of this mess. He allowed his lips to curl in response and nodded imperceptibly - he hoped. And then he would convince Chakotay everything he said had been part of his escape plan, and just maybe he’d be able to retain some small shred of dignity.

Suddenly, he became aware of towels drying him. He’d been rinsed and hadn’t noticed. There was a little more rubbing and a little less patting of the towels for him. And damnit, if the towels didn’t feel good. He was going to swell a little more if he couldn’t find something else to think about. Something other than oil.

Linna assiduously oiled his chest. Her fingertips circled his nipples, many more times than warranted, as she came back to them again and again. She obviously found working the oil through the hair into his chest a little difficult. Rhian, the girl with the longest fingernails, was having an equal amount of trouble with the thick patch of hair on his lower back. The other two, Caris and Mynie, dragged and pulled over his hairy arms and legs. Altogether it was a much less pleasant process than he’d anticipated. 

All four of the girls and Madam frowned as they stood back surveyed him.

“He does not shine enough.” “They are supposed to gleam.” “Not smooth.”

The litany of faults grew. Madam tapped a finger against her front teeth and then suddenly snapped her fingers. “I have it. Quickly, wash him down again, but waste no time. All the oil must be removed.” She hurried back to the storage cupboard and busied herself preparing what she needed. 

“Here.” Madam carefully carried over a large container just as the girls finished drying Tom. It was shrouded in towels, keeping the mysterious contents warm. “Watch.” She pulled out a long strip of material. It was infused with something. She slapped it onto Tom’s chest and smoothed it so it ran from collarbone to the base of his rib cage. She repeated the process with three more strips. She tapped the first one, and satisfied it had sufficiently hardened, grasped the top end and pulled downwards.

Tom yelped. He couldn’t help it. “Hey, stop that!” Tap, tap went Madam’s fingers. “Ouch!” screeched Tom. “Haven’t you heard of depilatories? Yeow! A razor? Fuck, that hurts! How about men with body hair?”

“Be quiet.” Madam continued to wax Tom’s body and limbs, leaving only a small triangle of pubic hair and also his axillary hair. She’d also left his balls and ass alone, for which he was devoutly grateful. When he was sure the women were not paying attention to his face, he glared at Chakotay, whose shoulders had been shaking suspiciously throughout the procedure.

“Now you may re-oil him.” 

The feel of the oil being rubbed over his newly smooth, rather sensitive skin was somewhat soothing. He exhaled slowly. He thought he might even be enjoying the new sensations, even though there was still a little pain, when Rhian spoke up.

“Madam, could you come here? What is happening? Is this normal?”

Tom had closed his eyes and bent his head back as far as it would go, but at the last question, he jerked forward. What had they done to him now?

“These little dots, they are all over him now. His chest, his legs. Is he sick? Is it the wasting disease?”

“Idiots,” muttered Tom, and continued more loudly, “you’ve caused petechial hemorrhages. From the trauma caused by pulling the wax. I don’t have any disease.”

“Oh, dear. It does resemble the wasting disease.” Madam examined Tom from all angles. “The Mistresses won’t like this. He’s not really pretty at all with all these -,” she glanced up at Tom’s face, “petechial hemorrhages,” she pronounced carefully. “He’s obviously weaker than he looks. There’s no time to prepare the other one now. Besides, he swells for that one.” She tapped her front teeth again. “Ah! I have it. Caris, the blue box, if you please.”

“But, Madam, that is the ‘ugly’ box. He is not ugly.”

“The blue box.”

“Yes, Madam.”

A fine line of sweat beaded Tom’s upper lip as he watched Madam unscrew a jar she took from the proffered box. He was not swelling now. What on earth was in an ugly box? She dipped her fingers into the contents and starting at his left collarbone, swirled a red iridescent crème over his breast. Several minutes later, Tom gleamed with an abstract design in red, blue and purple. She added some defining lines in black and finished of her creation by misting some sort of spray over him, designed to stop the colors from smudging off. After looking him over, she picked up a few pencils and deftly highlighted Tom’s eyes and mouth. When she finally turned her attention to the girls, Linna had a finger in her mouth, sucking it abstractedly, and Caris was licking her lips. Pleased, she turned her attention to Chakotay.

“It is time for the Potentizer. Linna, tonight you will apply it. Make him swell.”

Tom suddenly realized the function of the Potentizer; it was needed to counteract the drug in the male’s system, to enable them to perform. Having Linna’s hands on Chakotay was totally unacceptable. Aside from which there was the possibility the women would realize the drug in Chakotay’s system had already dissipated. “Madam, I beg you. Allow me to apply the Potentizer. It would be…more appropriate.”

Linna frowned for a moment, and then thought of the entertainment the Mistresses would enjoy, that those like themselves never witnessed. She thought it would be terribly exciting to watch the men make each other swell. She spoke up. “Please, Madam. I would relinquish my responsibility. We never…this situation…” she gave up trying to explain herself. “It would be fun!” she confessed and her eyes sparkled. “We would not say anything. It would be our secret.”

The other girls added their pleas and promises. Madam looked from them to Tom and then Chakotay. The silence in the room weighed heavy as everyone waited for her decision. 

“Very well. But nobody,” and she looked hard at Tom, “nobody must tell of what has been allowed.”

Tom rolled his eyes; as if he’d spill the beans. He shook his wrists, anxious to get out of his bonds. He rotated his shoulders thankfully as he waited for the circulation to return to his fingers. Curiously, he examined what he could see of himself and wondered what Chakotay thought. At first glance it would seem he wore a skin-tight costume, cut wide at his shoulder girdle, where the color began at his collarbones. It also appeared to have a cut-out at the groin, as his cock, like most of his face, his hands and his feet had not been painted. He was pleased to see Chakotay kept his expression bland, as though still drugged. “Let his arms down,” ordered Tom, and hurriedly added a ‘please’ to his request. “He won’t move. He’s not deaf, right? He can follow instructions.”

“Yes, of course.”

“Then undo him.” He stood in front of Chakotay. “Commander, it’s Tom. You must stand still for now. Your arms may hurt for a moment, but you must stay here.” He leant in close, under pretext of feeling Chakotay’s arms and checking his pulse, and breathed into his ear, “I’m so sorry, but we need to do this.” He stepped back. “He’ll stay.” And then there would be two of them, unfettered and drug-free. He still had no idea what to do about Ayala, but he was hopeful an opportunity would present itself.

Madam herself undid Chakotay. She handed Tom the jar of Potentizer, picked up the container of syringes just in case, and settled herself close by. The girls had already arranged themselves in anticipation. At least they weren’t giggling, although they whispered to one another behind their hands.

Tom knelt in front of Chakotay. Keeping his eyes down, he unscrewed the jar. The clear yellowish gel glistened. He dipped a cautious finger in and brought a small amount up to his nose. It smelled pleasant. He rubbed it between his thumb and finger. It felt pleasant too; not especially sticky or greasy, but it had an oily feel to it that told him it would not all be absorbed. He took a breath in and let it out slowly as he drew two fingers through the gel. Chakotay’s cock was clean like his own, the only part of the big man’s body that was not shining with oil. Tom felt him flinch when the cool stuff came in contact with his warm skin. He hoped the women hadn’t noticed and quickly stroked along the length of the commander’s penis, using his movements to distract them. Keep it clinical, Tom, he told himself. Clinical, when beneath his fingers Chakotay’s shaft was already filling with blood - Tom abandoned clinical. He scooped up more goop and set the jar on the ground in order to use both hands. He forgot his audience and simply did what he wanted – stroked, rubbed, traced, squeezed, learned, loved…

Eventually, and more than a little regretfully, Tom determined Chakotay was about as ‘potentized’ as he was going to get and that taking things to their natural completion was not what the women had in mind. He leaned back to survey his handiwork. Hot and hard and glistening with gold-tinged gel, Chakotay stood proud and tall in every way. Tom got to his feet and faced the women. He also stood proud and tall, without any chemical help.

An embarrassed smile covered his face as he waited for someone to speak. Finally, he gave a polite cough.

“That was -.” Madam’s voice cracked. She shook her head and donned her mantle of efficiency. “Linna, the covers,” she ordered.

Linna got to her feet and tottered unsteadily to the end cupboard. She pulled out two lengths of black material. After Madam had given Chakotay an approving once over, Linna stood on tiptoe to fasten one of the covers around his neck. She made to do the same to Tom, when a shriek from Madam stopped her in her tracks. 

“He must have the Potentizer. It would be best if the Mistresses did not suspect he has not been drugged.”

Hastily dropping the cover Linna reached for the discarded jar.

“I can do it.” Tom’s voice sounded in her ear as he swiped the jar out from under her fingers. He grinned as she pouted at him, but he had his fingers recoated and the gel spread over his dick before anyone could stop him. He was just in time, as there was a knock at the door. 

“The Mistresses are ready.”

Madam flung the cover over Tom and pushed another jar of Potentizer into his hand. “You will need this,” she murmured, and then ordered in a loud, firm voice, “Go with this woman.”

“Thanks,” he acknowledged softly, and then he and Chakotay followed the messenger.

 

~ 

 

Tom supposed it could have been worse. They could have been led onto a stage to perform in front of hundreds women. Instead, they were in a warm room and there were only six. And then he decided he was wrong; with all its intimacy, this was worse. On a stage, separated from the crowds, there would have been some privacy, some sense of anonymity. Here, with soft lighting, comfortable furniture and the tantalizing aroma of some sort of spicy food mingling with heady incense there would be nowhere to hide.

The messenger pushed Tom and Chakotay until they were standing in the middle of the room in front of a low leather-covered bench. The Mistresses had spread themselves out on semi-circle of cushion covered couches so they were facing the bench in readiness for the entertainment. Small tables holding food and drink were within easy reach. One pressed a couple of buttons on a small hand-held controller, activating a pair of spotlights aimed at the bench whilst simultaneously dimming the remainder of the lights. She signaled to the messenger, who undid the men’s covers and quietly left the room, although not without the longest backward lingering glance she could manage.

Much was made of Chakotay’s manly figure. Tom sneaked a few appreciative glances at it himself as he unobtrusively scanned the room. He couldn’t stop his reflexive stiffening when he saw their communicators and phasers lying haphazardly amidst the food on the table located furthest from them. He felt Chakotay tense at practically the same moment. Eventually, he became aware of the women’s conjecture as to his own status. Apparently his ‘pretty’ face was at odds with his body being colored in the manner reserved for those of ugly persuasion. He felt the heat rise in his cheeks as the women debated who was more swollen and whether it wouldn’t be more exciting to see the ugly one take the handsome one for a change. Naturally they decided it would. (The jury was divided evenly on the question of swollenness) They issued their orders. Then filled up their glasses and sat back to watch.

Tom grasped Chakotay’s hand and pulled him so they faced one another. He leaned in close, carefully arranging himself out of the women’s direct line of sight. With his mouth against Chakotay’s ear he spoke softly. “I’m sorry.” He took Chakotay’s hand and placed it on his hip, then ran his fingertips slowly along the gleaming triceps, giving the women the prologue to the show they wanted while continuing to whisper. “If you can see a way out of this…” 

He felt Chakotay’s hand shift and gently squeeze his ass, then fingernails scraped upwards along his spine. To the sounds of encouragement Chakotay’s lips traveled along Tom’s jaw until their cheeks juxtaposed the opposite way. “It could be worse. Just do what you have to for now.” Tom sighed. It wasn’t a murmured declaration of reciprocated desire, but at least he had Chakotay’s permission to do this, and what he had to do was make it look good and that he could do.

Taking Chakotay’s jaw and tipping his head just a little, Tom took control. With closed lips, he kissed him firmly on the mouth and then seated him on the centre of the bench. Before turning back to his audience, he winked at Chakotay and set about fulfilling his orders. He sauntered over to the tables and helped himself to plate that he loaded with a selection of dainties and glass of the clear sparkling liquid the Mistresses were drinking. Potentizer or not, it had been a long while since either of them had eaten and he knew he was hungry. He stared at them for a long moment, daring them to stop him, and then keeping his spine straight and his pace unhurried, returned to join Chakotay.

The drink was alcoholic; cool in his mouth and warm down his throat. He took a second swallow before kissing Chakotay and handing him the glass. He nodded, indicating Chakotay should drink while Tom arranged himself on the bench. Conscious of the need to present a show, he sat at an angle, his furthest leg tucked under him, the closest dangling over the side so his toes touched the ground, and his cock visible and straining upwards. He took back the glass while Chakotay mirrored his pose. Between them, the plate of food rested on the leather.

It took a long time for them to empty the plate of food. There was plenty of touching and kissing in between the creative sharing of each morsel. The reddish jelly in the centre of a white cake had the perfect consistency for painting crazy patterns on gleaming bronze skin that had to be carefully cleaned off with Tom’s tongue. With the red color not showing up on his gaudily painted chest, Chakotay’s only recourse was to finger a stripe down Tom’s nose and delicately lick it off again. And when Tom fed him a cheese-filled ball of rice, it was absolutely necessary that he suck those long fingers into his mouth and clean them thoroughly. 

“The natives are getting restless,” murmured Tom, aware they could not delay the inevitable any longer.

“Then do it.”

“How do you…?” The least he could do was offer Chakotay a choice of position.

The expression on Chakotay’s face was unreadable. Worry overlaid Tom’s answering frown, until with a swipe of his thumb, Chakotay smoothed away the wrinkles between his brows and stood. His body language was unmistakable, making sure the women – and Tom – knew this was of his choosing and not theirs. 

Tom’s heart swelled. It was the only thing left to swell. He scrambled for the jar of Potentizer he’d dropped on their discarded coverings then took his place at the end of the bench where Chakotay had positioned himself on all fours. The golden gel made an adequate lubricant. Tom reasoned it had to be safe for internal use given some of it would end up in the Mistresses’ internals. Actually, he wondered if Voyager would be able to trade for the formula, because while he’d been hard and horny for simply ages now, he wasn’t hurting at all. He felt like he could keep fucking forever – obviously the whole point of the Potentizer. Pushing the stray thoughts aside, he worked efficiently, preferring not to draw out their preparations, which were somehow more personal that what was to follow. He tuned out the Mistresses’ suggestions, which were coming thick and fast, and did what he’d been dreaming of.

 

Once more Tom and Chakotay stood side by side, naked in the spotlight. Their performance had obviously been acceptable as the women chattered volubly amongst themselves.

“Do you think we’ll have to provide an encore?” Tom asked through clenched teeth, keeping a bright smile pasted on his face.

“Maybe. Do you think they’re distracted enough for us to make a grab for our weapons?”

Tom was saved from having to answer by the appearance of Ayala, wrapped in a familiar black cover and accompanied by an escort. Tom offered him a weak grin when he noticed Ayala’s raised eyebrows at their appearance. Ayala’s cover was hastily removed and he was placed next to Tom. Fresh debate broke out among the women, so Tom took the time to quickly fill in the newcomer. They had no time to wonder about their future as they were suddenly separated and each man led away by two of the Mistresses.

 

~ 

 

There was no way of knowing how much time had passed when the three men found themselves together in a room that held four beds and in a partially partitioned corner, the basic necessities for personal hygiene.

“I don’t know which I need more, a shower or sleep,” groaned Tom. The colors painted on his body had run into one another in places, and sweat had darkened his hair. 

“You have first shower, Tom,” said Chakotay. Ayala said nothing. He just flung himself onto one of the beds and closed his eyes. 

“Thanks.” That was the last word any of them spoke for a while. Tom shook Chakotay’s shoulder when he’d finished, the first officer having wasted no time in following Ayala’s example.

“Report,” ordered Chakotay tersely when Ayala clean and a little more wide awake returned to the bed he’d chosen.

“The Mistresses seem to have some sort of bet or competition between themselves,” said Tom. “Obviously, we’re not the first they’ve taken. What they did to us – those are well established routines.”

“I believe they’re trying to get pregnant,” offered Ayala. “The two I was with said something about the next ten days and being fertile.”

Chakotay frowned. “There were no men in the trading party. In fact, I haven’t seen another male anywhere.”

Tom and Ayala shook their heads. Neither had seen any males in the places they’d been.

“If they’re trying to get pregnant, they’ll be back for us soon.”

Ayala groaned. “I got nothing left, Chief. There’s no way…”

“Don’t forget the Potentizer,” sing-songed Tom.

“That’s not funny, Paris. Anyway, you’re forgetting none of us can get anyone pregnant, thanks to Janeway and the EMH. We’re all effectively sterile for now.”

“What do you think they’ll do to us if they find out?” Tom looked at the others expectantly. “We should find out. The penalty for failing to impregnate a Mistress could be anything from death to -.” He made a snipping motion to the accompaniment of appropriate sound effects.

Ayala reflexively clutched his groin and glared at Tom. “Good one, Paris.”

Tom shrugged helplessly. 

“Plans, people,” reminded Chakotay.

It didn’t take long to come up with some few ideas and then they lay down to get some necessary sleep.

They were woken by the familiar visages of Madam and Linna, who came bearing a substantial meal and the unwelcome container of syringes. 

“Eat quickly please. Then if you will promise me your cooperation, we can dispense with this.” Madam held up the box.

The men wasted no time and ate the surprisingly tasty food with relish.

“More oiling?” asked Tom, without much hope of a reprieve.

“More oiling,” confirmed Madam. “The Mistresses like their men shiny.” She inspected his chest with interest. “These…petechial hemorrhages…they have all gone.”

“Yeah, I heal quickly, lucky me.”

“You are indeed fortunate. Now, if you are all done? Will you cooperate?”

“No drugs are necessary,” stated Chakotay firmly.

In their naked state they were hurried through the corridors to the preparation room. All were thankful they met nobody on their journey. 

The oiling went more quickly with the men from Voyager assuring the women they had no need to be restrained and the three of them being prepared at the same time. Linna worked on Tom. She stared pointedly at a couple of finger sized bruises on his hips. “The Mistresses can be a little overenthusiastic,” he confided. She pressed a kiss over them when she thought nobody would notice. “Say, Linna, what happens when the first Mistress finds out she is…with child?”

“How did you know?”

“Is it a secret?” 

“Not exactly. It is just not a topic for conversation.”

“Can’t you tell me anyway?”

She turned Tom to face away from her and started on his upper back. “The one who gives birth first will be the leader among Mistresses for the next three cycles.”

“But why take strangers captive? Especially ones who only want to trade. The Mistresses must realize our crew will come looking for us when we fail to return. Are your males so bad then?”

“That is our greatest shame. Fifteen years ago there was a disaster of monumental proportions. The men all fell ill. Most died. Those who survived were all found to be sterile. Within a few years, a group of women had taken over the running of the planet. They called themselves the Mistresses. By restricting the access to new men to themselves they retain power.”

“What happens to the men like us if the Mistresses don’t…?”

“We don’t want to go to war. When we have to give the men back, we wipe their memories, complete the trade and wait for the next lot.”

“You don’t kill them or…err…take away their ability to, to swell by removing…?”

Linna, who had oiled all the way down to Tom’s thighs, while spending an inordinate amount of time on his buttocks, laughed softly and reached between his legs. She patted his balls and stroked a finger down his penis. “No. None of that. You will go back to your starship intact. No more talking now. I am falling behind.”

 

~ 

 

“I really hate that Potentizer,” moaned Tom as he lay on his bed. “They didn’t stop, all afternoon, and heaven help me if one had just a little more time than the other.”

Chakotay nodded sympathetically and took the first shower. Ayala mumbled something about never complaining he wasn’t getting enough ever again. He and Tom bitched about their respective Mistresses until Chakotay finished washing. 

“All right,” said Chakotay once the others had removed the pervading smell of female and sex that clung to them.

“I believe the EMH be able to help them,” finished Tom when he recounted Linna’s information. “Either by curing their men, or by providing their doctors with information on fertility assistance. And since Linna assures me we won’t end up dead or losing vital portions of our anatomy, I think we should tell the Mistresses we won’t be fathering any children. Besides, if we can prevent this happening to other men…”

“No more oiling. Please, tell them. I don’t want to be oiled again,” begged Ayala.

“I don’t want to be waxed again!” said Tom emphatically and scowled as Chakotay sniggered.

“I concur. I shall speak to Madam in the morning. Before the oiling.”

 

~ 

 

_Epilogue:_

On hearing the news that Voyager’s doctor may have a solution to their fertility problem, the Mistresses proved they were really not as unreasonable as first thought, especially as their own doctors were able to confirm Chakotay, Tom and Ayala were indeed unable to father children in their present state. Apparently it had never occurred to the Mistresses to have their potential sperm donors tested first. Clothing was found for them and they were invited to send a message to Voyager to meet them at the planet; the Mistresses were not so trusting as to let them fly off in their shuttle. The EMH was indeed able to cure the males of their sterility. 

Ayala’s reactionary celibacy lasted all of one week. Tom and Chakotay spent quite a bit of time together, although none of it involved oil. 

END


End file.
